


Sticky Buns

by DenaCeleste



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baking, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Manhandling, Multi, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Quickies, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste/pseuds/DenaCeleste
Summary: Chris hoisted Stiles over his shoulder. “I’m pulling rank. We need a snack.” He punctuated with a swift smack to Stiles’ bottom. “We’re going to eat you up, pretty boy. Then you can go back to cooking. Sound like a plan?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Stetopher Week 2016! I couldn't resist! 
> 
> First off, I want to warn for a very slight hint of feminization, if you squint at it the right way, but not really enough to tag. But, ya know, if it's not your cuppa, there's that info. 
> 
> Now, second, ALL THE THANKS to Twist for the prompt **and** the beta **and** finding the right excerpt for the summary. She polished this to a gleaming finish and helped make the posting process mostly pain free. :D She is AMAZING! *squishes Twist*
> 
> Thanks to XCuteAsHale for reading this at every stage and encouraging me to complete it! Without her love and enthusiasm, it would have been much more difficult. 
> 
> And my love to Fandom Hell and the Hellions for listening to me as I whined, for reading it when it was rough and half-done, and just generally being super supportive!!

The warm scent of cinnamon, bright tang of orange, and the richness of pumpkin wafted through the house as Stiles finished mixing the filling and applied it to the dough before rolling and slicing. He had to finish this before his guys got home. 

He set the timer once the pan slid into the oven--heh, buns in the oven--and then began working on the orange cream cheese glaze. It’s his specialty, and--

“Hands out!” He fended off the thief with a hard nudge of his shoulder, and whipped around to see Chris sucking his fingers, drops of orange-flavored goodness shining in globs against his scruff. He’d lick it clean if that weren’t exactly what the bastard wanted. 

“What have I told you about this?” Stiles tapped his foot in time with his whisk. Baking stopped for no man. Not even hunters. (Werewolves are not an exception, Peter, no matter how often you ask.) 

He kicked back, and the yelp told him everything he needed to know. “You, too, Peter. Out of my kitchen!” 

Instead of retreating, Peter plastered himself against Stiles’ back and reached two claws into the bowl to scoop some of the topping for himself. His pleased hum vibrated through Stiles and it wasn’t fair that he also saw those smug lips wrapped around--nope. No, he wasn’t going there. 

“These have to be ready for the party tonight. The party _you two planned_. So if you wouldn’t mind holding up your end of the bargain with the prep, that’d be fantastic.” Stiles twisted away again, moving to the far corner of the counter where he set a timer. 

Instead of listening to him--because why on earth would they do that?--they traded a glance and converged on Stiles. 

“Darling,” Peter began, “you’re so sexy when you bake. How could we resist you?” 

Which, fair point. He could send them away with a wave of his whisk, but right now, with Chris’ large palms rucking up his frilly apron and Peter’s swift fingers undoing his pants, he couldn’t see a reason to make them behave. 

“Don’t bother trying to resist me,” Stiles smirked, “just resist the glaze. Unless you want to go out for more cream cheese. Or have dry sticky buns.” 

“No, no, wouldn’t want dry buns,” Peter teased as he lifted the bowl from Stiles’ grasp and set it on the counter with a clunk. “But I do think that we should perhaps have a little break. Until the buns are cooked. You won’t glaze them right away anyhow.” 

Chris hoisted Stiles over his shoulder. “I’m pulling rank. We need a snack.” He punctuated with a swift smack to Stiles’ bottom. “We’re going to eat you up, pretty boy. Then you can go back to cooking. Sound like a plan?” 

Stiles squeezed Chris’ ass, since it was right there in front of his face, and hummed. “I suppose. If you make it worth my while.” 

Peter laughed. “When don’t we?” 

“Well,” Stiles replied as he tried to look at Peter from his inverted position, “you have until the timer dings to make it happen.” He yelped when Chris tossed him onto the bed, and then both men prowled towards him, hands everywhere as they divested him of his clothing. 

“I think we’re up to the challenge, pretty.” Chris took his mouth in a brain-melting kiss, all tongue and lips as his scruff rubbed over Stiles’ face in the best way. 

Chris knew Stiles got hard every time he called him pretty. It was turning into a thing with them, something that led to butterflies in his tummy and desire pooling lower. And when Peter flashed those bright blue eyes at him...yeah. 

Speaking of Peter, his mouth latched onto Stiles’ nipple, making him squeak into the kiss. Of course, Chris took this as his cue to twist the other nipple back and forth until it was perky. 

“Wouldn’t want that one to feel neglected, would we?” he interrupted their kiss to ask, and Stiles murmured his agreement as he mouthed at Chris’ bottom lip, hoping to entice him into more kissing. The man was a natural at it. 

Peter slinked down Stiles’ body, leaving bite marks that were sure to become hickeys along the way, especially around where he secured his apron. Deviously possessive bastard that Peter was. 

Stiles anchored one hand in Peter’s hair, while Chris held the other above his head. He gasped for air when Chris pulled away. “No, come back!” 

“Shh,” Chris soothed. “We have to hurry, remember? Gotta eat before you get back to cooking, right sweetheart?” 

Peter laughed, a wicked sound that made Stiles tremble, before licking a stripe up the inside of Stiles’ thigh. “So delicious here. Think I’ll take another bite.” 

Stiles yelped, arching into the pain of Peter’s teeth and the pleasure of his tongue drawing designs on the trapped flesh. And all the while, Chris held him in place, his free hand gliding over Stiles’ belly until it stopped just out of reach of his very interested cock. 

Stiles writhed under their combined attention. “Please!”

“That’s all you had to say, sweet boy,” Peter crooned. “I’m going to eat you up. Chris, turn him for me?” 

Chris pulled Stiles until he was on his side, leg draped high over Chris’ waist as he held Stiles open for Peter to get into place. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Stiles chanted, and tears pricked behind his eyes when Peter’s tongue took the first shockingly hot swipe across his hole. His hand found its way to Peter’s hair, clenching tight around the strands and making Peter growl. 

“You like that, gorgeous? Like when his tongue makes you squirm and cry? You gonna come for me, love?” Chris licked into his own palm once, twice, and then stroked Stiles in long, steady pulls that were a touch too firm. 

“Nnng, Daddy, please!” Desperation made his voice crack, because it wasn’t enough, and Chris _knew_ it wasn’t enough. 

“That’s our boy,” Chris purred. “Since we’re on a time crunch and you asked so nicely, I’ll give you a little extra help.” 

He scooched down the bed in stops and starts, pausing twice to scrape his stubble over sensitive spots, and the way the hair on his body scraped against Stiles’ skin as he went was enough to light up every nerve ending on the way down. 

Stiles’ eyes flew open--when had he closed them?--when Chris mouthed the base of his dick, dragging his teeth up ever-so-delicately until he closed his lips around the head. 

Chris suckled in tiny, devastating pulses, and between that and Peter's tongue plundering his ass--which, damnit, plunder-pirate-butt pirate, his brain, seriously--he nearly came. It was that thought, in all its silliness, combined with the squelching, greedy sounds they made as they devoured him that tipped him over the edge. He came giggling and crying and trying to remember how to breathe.

Peter and Chris crawled up on either side of him, both hard, but undemanding. They kissed him sweetly, and he melted under the attention. Tasting himself in Chris’ mouth and smelling the sweaty musk on Peter’s face made his cock twitch. Getting hard again wasn’t gonna happen, but damn was it sexy to know that he’d marked his men. In his own special way. 

He sat up quickly when he heard the timer ding. “Okay, I’ve got to get back to it.” He stood up on wobbly legs and rested his arms on the bed when he almost fell back on it. 

“Not that I object to your nudity, sweet boy, but you might want to put something on before facing the dangers of the kitchen,” Peter suggested. His eyes were glued to the little marks he’d made, already blooming deep red and a deeper purple. 

“Hm. Good point.” Stiles stood--grateful his knees didn’t buckle again--and grabbed a pair of panties from the bottom drawer. They were red and curved over his ass, with scalloped lace at the edges and straps that showed a glimpse of cleft at the top. He let the material snap against his skin before pulling his pants up over them, slipping into his shirt, and looping the apron into place. 

“You can picture me in these, smelling like you two, while I’m cooking.” He ran his hands over the frills in his apron, enjoying that sensation paired with his panties. 

“Oh, trust me,” Chris growled, “we will.” He wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders when Peter began lapping at the stray drops of cum that had somehow gotten caught in his scruff. It was distracting, and then they started to make out, and Stiles knew his time was up. He’d factored in a little wiggle room with the timer, but not enough to get sucked into watching them.

“Well, I glazed my honey-bun, time to check on the sticky buns. Have fun, you two!” Stiles called out as he walked away. “And get back to decorating when you’re done!” 

He peeked back before he left to see Chris encouraging Peter to straddle him, hands on the werewolf’s perfect ass as he ground them together. Stiles shook his head with a smile. His men. He loved them an obscene amount. 

He gave the glaze a cursory inspection, but it seemed fine. That dessert would survive. Good thing, too, because given the moans emanating from the bedroom, they weren’t going to be done anytime soon. 

“Good,” he murmured as he started on the pumpkin spice cookies. “Maybe _now_ they’ll stay out of my kitchen.” 

\---The End---

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on [Tumblr](http://denaceleste.tumblr.com) and/or [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/denaceleste)!
> 
> Join us in the multi-fandom paradise of Fandom Hell on Discord by clicking [here](https://discord.gg/7Sa4b4D)!


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